The Death of Manfred Von Karma
by Zetto San
Summary: The title says it all. It a piece about this infamous villain. I hope my story breathes a little humanity into this man. Spoilers for Games one and two, plus strong elements from Trauma Center: Second Opinion.
1. Chapter 1

The small alarm clock rung. The clock's big red display showed it was six in the morning as it buzzed, a distinct sound that told anyone asleep to wake up. Manfred von Karma opened his eyes, and turned the alarm off, in a motion that was almost autonomous. "6 AM. Perfect, as always."

Manfred von Karma awoke once more in his 30 by 30 foot cell, where he was serving his life sentence for the cold-blooded murder of Gregory Edgeworth. Despite being in prison, Karma's cell was quite furnished and comfortable. He had a sink and mirror, and a closed off shower stall. The shower stall was a little cramped, but was much better in comparison to the group shower. The rest of the cell had several of his possessions from his estate, which he sold when he was given his life sentence. At the foot of the bed was his small library, containing many books old and new. This included "To Kill a Mockingbird," his favorite novel as a child, "Runaway Jury," many books by Michael Crichton, and a well-read, leather-bound Bible, which he read close to every night. Several of his other items included his prized cello, a record player with a small collection of vinyls, ranging from classical to smooth jazz. A carpet he bought when traveling to India lay in the middle of the floor, and hanging on his gray walls were several paintings, many of which he made himself. On his bedside table, there were only three things; his reading glasses, a digital alarm clock, and a picture of him and his wife, Angelica. He was in his tuxedo, smiling from ear to ear, with his beautiful wife, wearing a snow-white wedding dress and an even more radiant smile, with long, blue-silver hair, the as their daughter Franziska.

At six, Manfred started his daily morning ritual. He immediately disrobed and entered his small shower stall. After 20 minutes of washing his body and silver hair, he stepped out and dried off. Wrapping a towel around his waist he proceeded over to his sink and mirror. For 5 minutes, he brushed and flossed, practically mechanically. He then grabbed his old-fashioned shaving kit, and began shaving the tiny stubbles that grew the previous day. He would take ten minutes to carefully shave and reexamine his chin and sides. At 6:30, he expected guard to deliver his breakfast, and morning paper. The guard came at 6:32, opened the cell, and put the food and paper on the small table. Manfred, without breaking the lock on his reflection, said simply, "You're two minutes late."

The guard, a little shocked, replied, "I'm sorry, Mr. Von Karma. The…" but before he could finish his sentence, the silver-haired man said, "I don't want excuses. Just don't be late again." Manfred wiped the last of the soap off his face, and the guard stammered, "Ye-yessir." The guard stood static for a moment, and Karma noticed he hadn't moved. "Is there something you need to tell me?" he inquired, putting away his shaving kit.

The guard, regaining his composure, remembered what he was going to say. "Oh, yes, sir. You had requested that you would be updated on how well your daughter did in court." Manfred, in the middle of his sentence, was getting dressed, completely indifferent if the guard could see him. He buttoned up his prison garb, and turned to the guard, meeting him in the eyes for the first time. The guard was slightly shaken by Karma's cold and piercing eyes. "Well?" he asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice. The guard, who once again lost some of his composure said, "Oh, um… Franziska beat Gunther Hertz again." Manfred closed his eyes and crossed his arms. He was calculating in his head. That meant it was Franziska's 42nd victory against Gunther. Karma chuckled in satisfaction. "Thank you. You may leave now." Manfred stated plainly. The guard practically ran out of Manfred's cell. Despite the prison uniform, Manfred von Karma was still a man to be feared and respected.

The guard left his cell open, like they did with most of the inmates this time of morning. Manfred was in a special part of the prison. It was only those who showed exemplary behavior, or were guaranteed to never make trouble. The rules were slightly less strict, as the inmates never rioted or complained. They were allowed to live somewhat normally, allowing cells to hold personal affects, from books to furniture, even computers.

Manfred put on his shoes, and walked out of his cell with his morning paper. He wasn't much interested in his breakfast of scrambled eggs and buttered crumpets that morning. No, the former prosecutor just wanted to read his paper. After exiting his cell, he turned left, and down the concrete stairs. On the next level up, there was a rather large room, the rest and relaxation room, with several other inmates there. In the room, one could find many ways to occupy his time. A large television was against the opposite wall, where those watching would do a civilized vote to decide what to watch next. Several chessboards were set up in the room, as well as tables to sit and read a variety of books and assorted magazines.

However, Manfred had no desire to watch television or play chess. He simply wanted to read his paper. Sitting at a lone table, the other men barely registered his existence, all fine and good in von Karma's mind. He started to read the front page, leaning back slightly in his chair. There was absolutely nothing that morning that could possibly deter Manfred from enjoying his daily read of he San Francisco Chronicle.

"Oh, good morning Manny, my good man! I see someone else wants to catch the worm!"

Except that.

Damon Gant, former chief of police and also serving a life term for the murder of Neil Marshall. Also, the one person Manfred even remotely knew in the prison. Damon Gant had worked with Manfred before, but Manfred never really cared for Damon's overly eccentric and happy attitude. Damon, in matching prison garbs, still had his ridiculous hairstyle and goatee and stupid purple glasses that served no discernable purpose whatsoever. Manfred lowered his paper to reaffirm what he already knew; Damon was standing next to his table, laughing and clapping in his ridiculous fashion from his own stupid joke.

"Good morning, Gant." Manfred reluctantly replied. "Come to bother me again?" Damon smiled, and replied, "Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the prison cot this morning." Karma, pretending to find an article on local pet groomers more interesting then the man hovering over him, told Gant through the paper, "I'm not in the mood today, Gant." Gant lost his smile, and looked at Manfred for a brief, yet awkward pause. Suddenly, he smiled again and said, "Well, may I at least have the funnies? I have a feeling you have no use for them." Gant was right. Manfred never particularly cared for the daily comic antics of characters in impossibly stupid situations. He was going to throw them out anyway, so he figure giving them to Gant could buy him a few minutes of silence.

Karma practically ripped the comics from the paper, and handed them to Gant, as if he was holding a very hot potato or a particularly slimy cucumber, which he used to punctuate his word. "Here." Damon gladly took them, and happily replied, "Thank you, Manny." Manny. Von Karma really hated that pet name. But, Karma knew Gant, and nothing he could do would change Damon's ridiculous inclination to name everyone with pet names. Damon sat down, and began reading through the daily comics.

Manfred was in the middle of an article about a local police drug bust, when Damon suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! That Beetle Bailey! The Sergeant beat him up AGAIN!" He was laughing and clapping while he was practically yelling this to Manfred. The other inmates turned briefly to see where the noise came from, before returning to their business. Despite his better judgment, Manfred rolled his eyes and said, "Doesn't Beetle get beat up by the Sergeant in every strip?" Gant laughed heartily again, saying "Oh, but it's always so funny HOW Beetle winds up being beaten up! And the swearing. Not real swearing, mind you, just some random punctuation marks and ampersands. Someone has to think of the children, you know." Manfred rolled his eyes again, and pondered how on earth anyone would be amused by that stupid comic strip. He returned to his article once more. Damon stared at Manfred for a short while, and came up with an idea.

"Oh, Manny! Do you know what you need?" Manfred lowered his paper, and glowered at Gant. Sarcastically, von Karma asked, "What do I need, Gant?" Damon brightened up, and said, "You need to go swimming!" which he punctuated with a clap and ridiculous smile. Karma fully put down his paper, and fully turned to Damon. "Look, we have this conversation just about every day. You ask me if I want to go swimming, and every day, I say no. I don't like swimming that much. I'd much rather get my exercise on my own with a treadmill. Now Gant, why on God's green earth would I say anything else, one this particular morning, where you have done nothing more then annoy me?"

Gant stared back into Manfred's eyes. He seemed to be the only one impervious to his vicious stare. Gant smiled and simply remarked, "Why not? Would swimming really kill you?" Manfred thought about this. He too thought of an idea. He leaned into Gant, which he did the same, and whispered, "Will you not bother me for the rest of day if I swam with you for one hour?" Damon smiled and whispered back, "Yes. Whatever you want." Manfred sat back up, and crossed his arms in deep thought. Karma finally pushed out through his teeth, "Fine. But only for ONE hour." Gant clapped and said, "Excellent! I'll see you downstairs in the pool area in 15 minutes." With that, Gant got up, and headed back to his cell to get a pair of trunks for the two of them. When he left, Manfred planted his face into his rough leather hands, and thought about what he just agreed to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Manfred was standing in his gray swim trunks, staring at the large swimming pool. It was quite large, with a high dive at one end, and a shallow wading area. Next to the wading area was a small square and net, where the inmates could play volleyball in the water. Manfred looked at the water, still pondering as to why he accepted Gant's absurd offer. "Last one in is the rotten cabbage!" Damon Gant said to Karma, as he dashed passed him, and did a running jump into the middle of the pool. Gant returned to the surface, smiling ridiculously and looking right at Manfred through his purple shaded goggles. "The water is fine, Manny!" shouted Gant. It really didn't matter what volume Gant's voice was, for the other men in the pool were too occupied with volleyball and the guards were only concerned about their duty. Gant was like a younger sibling, pestering the older one to play.

Manfred took a deep sigh, and whispered under his breath, "Just one hour…" as he descended the ladder into the 7-foot water. The water was initially cold, but after Manfred dipped his head into the pool, his entire body got used to the relatively lukewarm water. Gant clapped, and announced, "Let us have a race, Manny! I've always wanted to see if anyone can best me in a 50-Meter Freestyle." Manfred closed his eyes in bitter annoyance due to his request, but did not allow Gant to see it. Karma simply replied, "Fine. One lap, Gant." Gant then replied heartily, "Good! Always nice to see some sport in you, Manny!" The two went to the closest end of the pool, the side with the high dive. They both took their positions. Across the room was a large clock. Gant turned to Karma, and suggested, "When the second hand hits the top, we'll go." Manfred acknowledged this with a nod, and both men were staring at the large clock. 15 seconds. They tensed up their knees. 10 seconds. Karma narrowed his vision to the opposite wall. 5 seconds. Both men took in some air. Four. Three. Two. One.

Go.

With great speed, Manfred and Damon kicked off the concrete wall. Gant had begun the Butterfly technique, a particularly hard stroke that required both great arm and leg strength to pull off effectively. Damon had been swimming since he was merely 10 years old, and despite being in his sixties, he was in excellent shape, and perfectly capable of pulling off such an advanced technique. Manfred used the simple forward crawl. Simple, yet highly effective. Like Gant, Manfred was in excellent shape for his age, and it is likely he could out perform any well-fit man in their mid-twenties. Both men were equally matched in terms of speed and body strength. They sped in the water neck and neck, with neither of them gaining a significant advantage.

The men met the opposite wall at about the same time. Both Gant and Karma flipped in the water, and prepared to bounce off the wall. Manfred's one advantage was in this moment. Karma rarely ever spent his time sitting down, ever. His leg strength was remarkable. The boost he got from kicking off the wall was just enough to let his pull ahead from Damon. Damon kicked off a second later, and saw Manfred had gotten a small, yet considerable lead. Despite Gant's best efforts, Manfred made it back to the starting wall a full 4 seconds ahead of Gant. Manfred was leaning on the poll's edge for support. He was pretty exhausted. After Gant caught his breath, he boisterously laughed, saying "Amazing, Manny! There are not many people who can best me! Bravo!" Gant started clapping for Manfred, who was still catching his breath. Not waiting for any response, Damon announced, "I will now go off the high dive! Care to join me, Manny?" with a large grin on his face. Manfred concentrated, took one big breath, and replied, "In a moment."

"Splendid!" With a clap, a very wet Gant exited the pool with out the aide of the nearby ladder, and started climbing the ladder to jump off the 20-foot high dive. Gant reached the top, having the time of his life. Manfred had not moved from his spot, and averted his attention to Gant, who looked absolutely ridiculous readying himself. "Bombs Away!!!" shouted Gant as he leaped from the board, and formed a cannonball. The large splash that resulted covered Manfred's face with water. "You call that a dive, Gant?" Karma said as Damon popped his head out of the water. Gant furrowed his eyebrows and plainly asked, "I don't suppose you can do better, hmm, Manny?" Manfred sharply but flatly responded with, "Watch me."

Manfred was at the top of the board in no time. Gant was on the side, awaiting Manfred's dive. Karma closed his eyes, and concentrated on only the board and water below. After a moment, he dashed from the board, and took a leap. The first leap let his feet land right on the front of the board itself, allowing maximum displacement. He bent his knees, and right at the middle of the board's returning momentum, Manfred leaped once more, with perfect timing. Arching his back, Manfred nearly touched his toes. At the height of his jump, and when he felt gravity's effect pulling him towards the earth, Manfred leaned forward in the air, and began a perfect dive formation. Manfred had extended his arms completely forward, and was heading towards the water as straight as he could. His hands impacted the water, and his whole body when under. There was little splash, the mark of a true diver. Gant was positively stunned at Manfred's excellent dive.

Karma rose above the water, to catch his breath. It was quite a rush, one he hadn't felt in some time. Damon was laughing and clapping with glee. "Fantastic, Manny my boy! I say, where did you learn that?" Manfred replied, "Oh… no where. Just practice." Gant noticed something odd about his response. But, Damon, having too much fun, decided not to press the issue. Gant smiled once more, and playfully said, "I'll bet you cannot do THAT again." Karma started at Gant with his sharp eyes. "Please. I can do it one hundred times perfectly if I felt like it." Damon, deciding in his head that he really did want to see the dive again, offered, "I won't bother you for the rest of the week if you do it one more time." Karma smirked. "With that offer, I'd do it a thousand times!"

Manfred was at the top of the board once more. Concentrating again, Karma began his running leap. He jumped on to the exact front of the board again, and started his spectacular leap into the empty air. But, something happened. Something that wasn't supposed to happen. At the top of his leap, Manfred's right shoulder, the shoulder he was shot in on that fateful day, stung. It stung as if a red-hot rapier was being stabbed and twisted into his shoulder. Karma screamed in agony. He started his decent to the water below, free falling. Karma fell headfirst. His world was spinning around him. Or, in reality, he was twisting in mid-air. As Karma's world spun, sound started to die out, and his vision became foggy, with his eyelids dragging closed, even though he was upside down in the air. Time no longer was the steady flow like sands in an hourglass, but more like a vicious jelly slowly pouring out of its container. The last thing Karma saw was Damon, pushing his way forward in the water, mouthing words that Manfred could not understand. He felt that everything vanished the moment he felt his head contact with the water.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a distinct humming in Manfred's head. A steady sound similar to a mosquito stuck on a piece of flypaper. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see where he was. He saw where the hum was coming from. He was staring right at a poorly shaded florescent light bulb that was affixed to the ceiling. Manfred raised his right hand and rubbed his temples. His head was throbbing with pain, and the bright light didn't help at all. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, a quick glance around told him where he was. He was inside a dingy, slightly dirty looking medical room. He was in the prison's infirmary, and Damon Gant was to his left side, sitting on a stool, looking intently into a book, and scribbling something into the pages. Manfred let out a slight groan. The last thing we wanted to see when he first woke up was Gant. Damon heard his groan, and looked up from his book. He readjusted his purple glasses, and looked at Manfred. "Oh, good! You're finally up. Had me worried sick, you did."

Karma started to sit up. He started to struggle, and at the first sign, Gant got up from his chair. "Let me help you, Manny. You shouldn't strain yourself." Manfred lied back down; allowing Damon to readjust his bed, rather then complain about doing things on his own. "You really need to save your strength. You've been out cold for the last three days!" Karma, shaken by this bit of news, allowed Gant to finish adjusting his bed while he tried to find the words to say. Manfred cleared his throat, and asked, "Three days?" still dumbfounded by the news. Gant stepped back and answered, "Oh yes, three days. I say, that was quite a spectacular fall." Gant smiled and clapped his hands together. "Well at any rate, I must inform the doctor that you've finally waken up." The doorknob, at that moment, turned over, and a tall, scruffy haired man with an unshaven face in a white coat entered. He was holding a medical chart and what appeared to be a few x-rays. "Well, speak of the devil! Here he is now."

The scruffy doctor put down the x-rays, and looked at Gant. "Thank you for looking after him, Damon. We are a bit short-staffed, so we appreciate your time." Damon smiled and replied, "It was no trouble at all, doctor. Certainly gave me time to work on my crossword puzzles!" The doctor chuckled. "Anyway, Gant…" The doctor glanced at Manfred, who was sitting patiently. "I thank you for your help. But I need to speak with Manfred privately." Damon understood. "Alright." He grabbed his crossword book, and promptly left the room.

The doctor closed the door, and looked at his chart. "Alright, Mr…" he scanned the chart for a name. "Von Karma. I'm Dr. Gregory Forman. How do you do?" Dr. Forman extended his right hand. Karma did not shake it. Manfred never really liked doctors anyway. He crossed his arms and replied, "My head is throbbing, and I would like to return to my cell." Dr. Forman responded, "Well, I can't let you go yet. I have a few questions to ask." Manfred became annoyed. "What is there to ask? I hit my head on the water, and it knocked me out!" He snapped his fingers. "Now, give me two aspirin and I'll be on my way!" Forman then became annoyed. "It is not that simple, Manfred. While you were knocked out, we did a few tests, and we found-" Karma was outraged. He roared "TESTS!?! I never gave anyone permissions to run tests on me! How DARE you…"

Forman threw down his medical chart, and shot daggers with his eyes. "MR. VON KARMA! You no longer have the right to make those types of decisions!" Forman was now over Karma like an eagle over his prey. "You are part of the California Penal system! You are merely a number, a scumbag, and a useless unit! You are no longer a Chief Prosecutor! The only reason I'm even taking care of your well being right now is because I don't want to deal with the hassle of filling out autopsy papers!" He extended his right finger at Karma. "You are owned by the state of California! They will do with you as they please! Do I make my self absolutely clear!?!"

Karma was taken back. He had nothing to say.

Forman backed down, and picked up his medical chart. "Now, Mr. Von Karma. I need you to answer me completely and honestly." Manfred was still silent. Forman scanned his medical chart, ad asked, "Are you prone to seizures, Mr. Von Karma?" Manfred jolted his head to look at Dr. Forman. Forman said, "Mr. Von Karma. Are you or are you not?" Karma, reluctantly, answered, "Yes. For years, I've had occasional seizures. I just learned how to deal with them, and cover them up." Forman took out a pen from his pocket, and looked as his chart, really not caring for Manfred's longer then necessary answer. Without looking at Karma, Forman asked plainly, "How long have you had them?" Karma crossed his hands and closed his eyes, concentrating. "Sixteen, maybe seventeen years now." Forman scribbled something on his chart, and moved onto the next question. "Did something happen?" Manfred massaged his right shoulder. "Yes. I was shot in my shoulder. I never got the bullet removed."

Forman took a deep breath. "Mr. Von Karma. You did not get knocked out because of the trauma of hitting the water." Karma was silent, and listened intently. "When you dived, you lapsed into a coma. When you were admitted into the ward, we ran a few x-rays on your shoulder." Forman put the images up on the illuminated backboard across from Manfred. "Look what we found." Karma muttered, "Oh… my God."

Half of the bullet was gone. The image of the deteriorated bullet burned into his retinas like a red-hot brand. For nearly seventeen years, he lived with a ticking bomb in his shoulder, and a deteriorated bullet was merely the start of its destruction.

"Mr. Von Karma, that bullet was lodged in between your muscle and bone. For years, your movement has rubbed the bullet down, little by little. The reason you were getting seizures and why you lapsed into a coma was because the lead was poisoning you." Karma, flabbergasted by this news, sharply asked "But there are people who live with bullets in their system for years, and they have very few problems!" Forman was expecting that question, so he replied quickly, "Your case is different. Your bullet is deteriorating, and the lead is steadily getting into your bloodstream." Manfred concentrated by placing his forehead between his thumb and index finger. "What else, doctor?" Forman put down his chart. "The lead is attacking your internal organs. In our tests, we found that your kidneys and liver…" Forman sighed deeply. "Have failed." Karma placed his hand over his mouth in utter disbelief. Forman continued. "We considered your options. Kidney and liver transplant are impossible at this point. Even if we found donors in time, your blood is so filled with lead that a total transfusion would be required. Even then the process would take days to complete." Karma let the news sink in. Weakly, he asked Forman, "What does this all mean?" Forman looked straight into his eyes.

"Manfred von Karma, you have less than a week to live."

Manfred was once again without words.


	4. Chapter 4

The silence between Dr. Forman and Manfred was thundering. Karma could feel an amazing weight, a weight that could not be felt by his body, nor could any physical thing cause this weight. It was the weight on his heart, growing heavier and heavier. The weight caused his heart to sink not to his feet, but to the very bottom of his soul. Manfred von Karma was, for the first time in his entire life, coming face to face with his own mortality. Karma broke the silence by clearing his throat, and asking with a weak volume, "Less then a week?" Dr. Forman continued to look plainly in Manfred's eyes. "Five, maybe six days, tops." Manfred processed this information in silence. Dr. Forman sat on his stainless steel table directly behind him, and crossed his arms as he sat. "There is a hospital upstate from here. Hope Hospital. They can extend your life by a dew days. This is, if you want to be transferred out…" Manfred, without a moments hesitation, said, "I want to be transferred out." Dr. Forman was a little taken back. Most patients chose to die in prison, so it was something of a surprise."

"Umm… alright." Dr. Forman replied. "We can have you out of here in thirty minutes. I'll go tell my superiors." Forman picked up his chart, and started to leave the room. He put his hand on the doorknob, and turned to open the door partway. Before he exited, he asked, "Do you need anything from your cell?" Karma thought for a moment, and replied, "I just want my bedside picture and my Bible." Forman registered the request with a nod, and fully left the room, pulling the door shut. Manfred laid back on the bed, and stared into the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time.

Twenty minutes later, a guard arrived with an orange prison garb, with his Bible and picture on top. The guard placed the items down, and said to Karma coldly, "Get dressed. We'll be outside waiting." Without even a chance for Manfred to thank him, the guard had already left the room. He got up from his bed, and went over to the table. He moved the photo and Bible to the side, and changed out of his medical clothing to the prison clothing. After zipping up his suit, he held the photograph of himself and Angelica in his hands. After taking a very deep sigh, he picked up his bible, and tucked them both under his left arm. He opened the door, and two guards holding rifles were to his sides. The guard on his left stated sharply, "Follow me." He quickly turned, and started leading out him down the hallway.

They reached the end of the long hall, to find large double doors, with a glowing red sign reading, "Exit." As they waited for authorization, Manfred heard a familiar voice. "Manfred, I have a question." It was Damon Gant. Karma turned to Gant fully and met his eyes. "Who was it that taught you how to dive?" Damon inquired with a stern look of seriousness on his face. Manfred paused, and replied just as sternly, "My sister, Victoria." Damon then replied, "She taught you well, Manfred." There was thundering silence between the two men, which broke when Karma said, "Good bye, Damon Gant." He extended his right arm. Damon clasped it firmly, saying, "Good bye, Manfred von Karma." They held their grips for a few seconds, when a buzzer went off. Karma released his grip, and turned back to the door. It slid open, and Damon stood static as he watched Manfred exit through the doors. Moments later, the doors slammed shut. It would be the last Damon ever saw of Manfred von Karma.

It had been awhile since Karma truly saw the sun.

The prison did have a fair share of windows, but they were tinted so much, barely any light came through. Light came mostly from the multitude of florescent lights. Karma's eyes hurt some as they adjusted to the setting California sun. It was wintertime, and the air was crisp and cool. There was quiet all around Manfred, with the exception from the steps of the guards and himself. No expression crossed the guard's faces as they walked Manfred to the ambulance. They had seen men walk to their death hundreds of times, and this time was no different. The doors to the back opened up. The guards stood to the sides, arms at the ready, as Karma ascended to the seat. When Karma sat down, the doors shut, and he heard the click of a lock, sealing him in.

The driver turned to Manfred, and said, "It's going to be awhile, so I'd suggest you get comfortable." Karma nodded, and the driver started the ambulance. They drove out of the prison gates, and began the long journey to Hope Hospital. Manfred leaned on his hand, and stared out the window, watching the buildings and trees pass by. He started to think back many years ago, about that summer with Victoria…

----

"MANFRED'S A CHICKEN! MANFRED'S A CHICKEN!" mocked a boy no older then thirteen. Twelve-year-old Manfred von Karma was standing at the edge of a diving board, knees shaking as he looked down to the water 10 feet below. It was his first time on the high dive, and Manfred was a nervous wreck. "I'm not chicken!" he shouted back unconvincingly. The boy shouted back, "If you're not chicken then JUMP!" The other boys around started jeering, telling Manfred to jump. He closed his eyes, and ran on the board. He tripped over his feet, and tumbled in the air as he ran off the board, falling then hitting the water with his back. He weakly swam to the side to get out of the water. As he was leaning on the sidewall of the pool, he could hear the laughing and jeering of the other boys. The main boy shouted, "Nice going, Chicken-Boy!" He laughed the loudest and most obnoxious. He was Ronny Wilhelm, captain of the Junior Diving League at their school. He had no problems shoving his skill in the face of others, Manfred being no different.

Manfred exited the water, back burning in pain. Through his attempts to catch his breath, he could hear the laughter getting louder and louder. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the terrible laughter and pain. Suddenly, a sharp voice rang out from in front of Manfred.

"You boys knock it off!"

It was Manfred's older sister, Victoria. She was fourteen, and had long silver hair, which was tied in a ponytail. She stood in her one-piece bathing suit, pointing her right finger towards Ronny and his group of boys, which already started to scatter. "I know where you live, Ronny, and don't think I won't tell your mom what you're doing!" Ronny understood the gravity of her threat, and started to run off. She lowered her finger with a sigh, and looked down at her younger brother. He was looking at his feet, on the verge of tears. Victoria leaned forward, and smiled. She put her hand on Manfred's shoulder, and practically whispered, "Come on. Let's go home, Manny."


	5. Chapter 5

Victoria held Manfred's hand as they walked down the cooling sidewalk in the setting Hamburg sun. Manfred's head was down, staring at his feet. Victoria turned to her head to the right to look at her younger brother, and could clearly see his sadness. She decided not to beat around the bush. Von Karmas were known for always known for never avoiding an issue, especially with each other.

"Why do you let those boys pick on you?" she inquired with a soft yet stern tone. Manfred turned red and refused to look at his sister, sensing her disappointment. The only thing he could say was, "I don't know. They just do." Victoria didn't ask the question to get an answer, since she already figured it out. She just wanted to know how he would answer. She sighed in disappointment at her younger brother, closing her eyes and covering her eyes with her left hand. "Manfred, they pick on you because you are scared of diving. Bullies like Ronny get their kicks from picking on those weaker then them. That's why he made you dive." Manfred was flustered and turned even redder. He knew his big sister was right. The young von Karma yanked his hand away, and turned to look at Victoria's eyes. He tearfully cried, "Well, what am I supposed to do about it?! I'm terrified of the high dive, and Ronny will continue to pick on me forever!" He broke out into sobbing. Victoria shook her head. She didn't mean to make her younger brother cry. She always hated it when he cried.

Victoria placed her hand on her chin, and made an over-exaggerated "HMM" to get Manfred's attention. He stopped crying, to see Victoria rubbing her chin, and smiling. He was plenty confused by this. Victoria lit up, and snapped her left fingers loudly, which she followed with "I have an idea!" She kneeled down to her brother's level, and met him face-to-face. "You just have to show him up!" Manfred even more confused. " Show… him up?" he repeated. Victoria placed her hands on his shoulders, and said, "I'll teach you how do dive. If you can beat Ronny, then he won't pick on you any more!" In truth, Victoria really didn't know how to dive that well. She was just taught enough to pass swim class. But it was enough to teach Manfred. "Really, sis?! Would that work?" he said as he stopped crying and lit up as bright as his sister. Victoria winked, and said to Manfred, "Trust me, Manny. Just listen to me, and you'll be ok." Manfred hugged his big sister, glowing. Victoria smiled, and picked her little brother up. She put him on her back, and started walking home.

Ronny had piano practice on Thursday afternoons, and the two Von Karma siblings would practice then. They spent weeks perfecting Manfred's technique. It was rough work, tiring the two out every week. But, finally, after two months of training, Manfred figured out how to do a basic dive consistently. That would have to do. Finally, one afternoon, Manfred and Victoria met Ronny at the pool once more. Victoria whispered into Manfred's ear, "You can do it, Manny." With a nod, he younger Von Karma approached Ronny. He noticed his presence, and Ronny turned to meet Manfred eye-to-eye. "Well, if it isn't Chicken-Boy again!" Manfred was undeterred, and stood his ground. He looked as tough as a 12-year-old in dark blue swim trunks could look. Manfred said with a smirk, "Hey, Ronny, I'll bet I'm a better diver then you are, and I can prove it!" Yes, a slightly immature comment, but it was enough to get a stuck up thirteen-your-old flustered. "You? Better then me!? HA! Alright, one dive, Chicken-Boy!" Manfred continued to smirk, for he knew that it would push his buttons. Ronny's loud voice started to gather a group of other children, curious by his outburst. Ronny pointed his finger to the high dive, and shouted, "High dive! You first!" Manfred smirked wide, and nodded to agree.

Manfred was on top of the board again. He stood tall, but the jeers came back. Suddenly, his training flushed from his mind, and the insults flowed in again. He began to sweat bullets, hearing the cries from the other children. His knees began to wobble, and he looked down at the small crowd. Horrible laughter came from the crowd, and the sound was crushing. He was about ready to give up, when he saw his older sister, staring into his eyes. She smiled, and did not say a word. Suddenly, there was quiet. He closed his eyes, and just concentrated. Manfred ran forward, and sprung off the board. At the top of the jump, just as he was taught, he bent forward, and entered a dive formation. A little shaky, but he entered the water with nary a splash. Ronny was speechless, and he became even more infuriated. He shoved kids out of the way, shouting, "I'll show you how it's done! No one dives better then me!" Manfred had just exited the water as Ronny made it to the top of the board. He watched as Ronny ran forward to begin his dive. He tripped on his feet, and tumbled over into he water. The rest of the children were laughing at his dismay performance, and the laughter was roaring when he exited to pool, and found his swimsuit came off during the dive. He grabbed a nearby towel, and started running for the exit, crying in anger and sheer embarrassment. Manfred chuckled too, and didn't realize his sister was standing behind him. She put her hand on his shoulder, and smiled at him. He looked at her, and whispered, "Thanks, Victoria." She replied, "Don't sweat it, Manny." She pulled him to her side, rubbing his shoulder…

"Hey, buddy! Wake up!" Manfred's eye's shot open. He looked around, finding himself back in the ambulance. He had fallen asleep, and one glance at the driver's digital clock showed it was one in the morning. They had been driving for hours, and they were finally at Hope Hospital. The back doors swung open, and Manfred saw two nurses with a gurney, waiting for him. He got out the back, and was instructed to lie on the gurney. Manfred was tired, so he clutched his items, as he fell asleep once more as the nurses wheeled him to what would be his hospital room, where he would spend his final hours.


	6. Chapter 6

Manfred awoke, his eyes jolting open in response to absolutely nothing. He was secretly hoping that during the night, he would wake up once more in his prison cell, not slowly dieing from an idiotic mistake he made years ago, not having to face his final days. But, alas, he was greatly disappointed. He was still in Hope Hospital, he still had a degenerating bullet in his shoulder, and he still had little time left. He uttered curses under his breath, and decided he might as well sit up. He immediately observed that his room was far nicer to that of the prison infirmary, as the bed was surprisingly soft, with warm blankets and clean sheets. His room was painted mostly sky blue, with one big window to his left looking out over some buildings in the rising morning sun, and another large window to his right, almost making up the entire wall. That window had its shades drawn, but a cracked door quickly told Manfred that it was the hallway, swirled in an activity of nurses, doctors, and surgeons going about their tasks. The last things in the room were two tables, one at Manfred's side with his bible and picture and another across from him with two chairs, and multiple machines making various noises and screens displaying indecipherable information. It was then Von Karma noticed there was a few wires hooked up him, clearly sending information to the machines. Manfred took a few more looks around the room, and decided that this was certainly a lot better then dieing in some cruddy prison bed.

Manfred found a wall clock, which displayed 7:26 with feint green numbers. Karma was slightly upset that he couldn't wake up at his normal time without the aide of his alarm clock. But, he couldn't ponder this for more then a few seconds, for the door creaked open, and he saw a short, blonde haired woman entered. She glanced around the room, and saw that Manfred had woken up. "Oh." Emerged from under her breath, as she fully entered, holding a medical chart in her left hand. She stood up straight, and gleamed Manfred in the eye. He was slightly taken back at the forcefulness of her body language. "Good morning, Mr. Von Karma." She said without even glancing at the medical chart. "I'll get the doctor soon, but I have to verify some information." She clicked her pen, but realized she made a mistake. "I must apologize, I did not mean to be rude. My name is Angie Thompson, and I will be assisting Dr. Stiles in your treatment." Manfred replied, "Well, thank you Nurse Thompson. Now, what did you need to know?"

The two spoke for a few minutes, as Angie mostly verified some last minute information. Angie scribbled down notes as answered some relatively simple questions. Finally, Angie got to the last the question. She asked, "Now, is there any next of kin you would like us to contact?" Karma was caught a little off-guard by her question. Over the past few days, he never even considered the need. But, despite that, he knew exactly who needed to be contacted. He replied, "Yes. Can you contact my children, Miles Edgeworth and Franziska von Karma?" Angie wrote the names down, and went to the next question, almost like clockwork. "Do you have a phone number we can reach them with?" Manfred suddenly realized that he had not spoken with either of them for years now. He couldn't even tell where they lived. A torrent of shame washed over him, feeling terrible that he couldn't remember how to even reach his own children. Angie noticed his small yet noticeable reaction, and knew exactly what to say. She had seen a multitude of patients give off the same vibe before, so picking up on it wasn't hard. "We'll find a way. Don't worry about it, Mr. Von Karma." She picked up on his sign of slight relief, and smiled slightly. The blonde nurse placed the chart at her side, asked one last question. "Is there anything else we can do for you, Mr. Von Karma?" He looked up, and straightened himself up. "No, not at the moment, Nurse Thompson." Angie acknowledged, and said, "Dr. Stiles will be here shortly." She took her leave, clicking the door behind her. Karma laid down, and began to think what to say to Miles and Franziska when, if they ever, arrived.

Angie's shoes clomped rhythmically as she paced down the hospital hallway. She navigated her way through the throng of doctors and other hospital staff, when she finally reached her office, one she shared with Derek Stiles. Upon opening the door, she found Derek, slowly sipping his coffee as he was eyeing another chart. Stiles noticed Angie as she entered, lifting his eyes from the papers, and putting on a warm smile. "Good morning, Angie. How are you today?" Angie kicked the door closed with her left heel, and smiled back. "I'm doing fine." She walked over to Derek, who had fully turned to her, putting down the chart and his cup. Angie handed the over her chart, saying, "I have what you need about your patient." Her face became a little more serious. "Lead poisoning. Who knew one bullet could do so much damage?" Derek flipped through Angie's notes and replied, "The human body can act strange sometimes. Even the simplest symptom can cause damage beyond comparison." He looked into Angie's eyes with a stern look. "That's why we exist." He started walking to the door out of the office, and just as his hand touched the handle, Angie whipped around and blurted, "Doctor Stiles!" He turned his head to look at her with his usual slightly confused look, completely different from a few moments ago. "Why did you take this case? You know he is going to die. There isn't anything you or anyone else case do to save him…" Derek thought about it for a moment, and replied, "I know this guy has a daughter. Soon, she is going to lose her father. I know the pain someone feels when they lose their father. I know that there were so many things I wanted to tell my dad before he passed." He looked right into her eyes. "Maybe if I can prolong his life, even a little, neither of them will have to feel the pain I felt." Angie took it in. "I understand, Doctor." Derek exited the room, leaving Angie in the office. She smiled, and chuckled a little. She should have known that Derek would be that selfless. He gathered herself, and briskly walked to her desk, where she pulled up a phone directory on her computer, and began to look for Miles Edgeworth.

Derek proceeded to the room Angie had just spoken to Manfred in. When he entered the room, Karma was jolted up some by the surprise entrance of the brown-haired and overly cheery Derek Stiles. He entered the room fully, got to Manfred's bedside, and extended his right arm. "Good morning, Mr. Von Karma. My name is Doctor Stiles." Manfred got up fully and grudgingly took Stile's hand. "How do you do?" Karma muttered with a forced politeness. His opinion still had not changed about doctors since his encounter with Dr. Forman. Derek shook, and responded, "I'm doing fine. Thank you for asking." He walked a little away, and started eyeing his chart, adjusting his glasses as he did. "Now, according to this, you are suffering from lead poisoning and some other symptoms. Now, you are aware that…" He was cut short as Manfred interjected, "I'll be taking a dirt nap in a week? Yes, Doctor, I know that. Could you get to the important part?" Derek was a little taken back, but appreciated his eagerness to not focus of fluffy details. Stiles readjusted his glasses. "Well, Mr. Von Karma, we'll have a few more blood tests, and I'm going to get you started on some basic vitamins. That should give your body some fight." Derek put down his chart, and crossed to the bed again. He glanced at Manfred's heart rate and blood pressure, and took a mental note of it. He asked, "Could you show me where the bullet entered your body?" Manfred lowered the medical gown on his right shoulder, and Derek took close look. Upon observing the scar, he placed his hand on mouth, trying to think. Von Karma looked at Derek with some confusion and worry. "Something wrong, Doctor?" Stiles glanced at him briefly, and focused back on the scar. He replied, "Well, usually at your level of lead poisoning, discoloring should have appeared around the area, but your skin is clear as day." Derek straightened up, and lifted the blanket on Karma's feet. "So are your feet. They should have discoloration." Karma was as confused as Derek. He suggested, "Maybe I was misdiagnosed?" Derek did not turn to look at him and simply replied, "No, it's lead poisoning. There isn't any doubt there. But your symptoms are a little… inconsistent." Manfred arched an eyebrow. "What does that mean?" Derek locked onto Karma and replied sternly, "I don't know. I figure out more when we have more tests done." Manfred looked away, and there were a few moments of silence between the doctor and his dieing patient. Derek broke the silence with, "Well, I'm sure Nurse Thompson already mentioned this, but are there any next of kin to contact?" Karma looked back. "Yes. Is she taking care of that matter?" Stiles smirked, replying, "I'm sure of it. Now," as Derek made for the door, "a team will be here soon to run the tests. I recommend that you rest until then. You need as much strength as you can get. Oh, and someone will bring you breakfast soon." Derek cracked the door, and glanced at Manfred, "Is there anything else you need?" He replied, "No thank you, Doctor." Stiles smiled, saying, "Alright. See you soon, Mr. Von Karma." With that, he closed the door behind him. Manfred looked at the large window, over the buildings the sun. He went back to concentrating on the words to say to his children.

"Gragh!" muttered Miles Edgeworth.

Miles Edgeworth was at his computer desk in his spacious apartment. He was leaning back in his leather computer chair, DS in hand. He was still in his sleeping clothing of long, plaid pajama pants and no shirt. Across from his open computer desk was his cozy living room with a bookshelf and a couch with a foldaway bed, the one Franziska was sleeping in the previous night. It was now a regular couch, with Franziska sitting on it, wearing a white tank top and plain black pajama pants. She was staying in Mile's apartment, and had been there for the past three days. After her victory against Gunther Hertz no less then five days ago, she flew to America to stay with Miles. She was in need of a vacation, and Miles needed help anyway. For the past several months, Miles and Franziska had been collaborating in writing a book, titled "The Path to Prosecution." It would be about becoming and being prosecutor of the law, and how the defense shouldn't be your enemy, along with many other topics. It was entering the last few weeks of completion, and they both decided they would get it done a lot better if the writing wasn't just through emails and phone conversations. But, today, they were just relaxing, appreciating the lazy morning. Franziska was quietly reading a book she found recently, called "The Adventures of Detective Hyde: The Midnight Secret" by Martin Summer and Alan Parker. She chucked at Mile's frustrated grunts, his expression always priceless. He had been trying to beat Jumpin' Jack Flash, and each grunt was another failed attempt. It was funnier in that she beat the song no less then a week ago.

Franziska was about to get back to her reading, when the phone in the kitchen rung. "I'll get it." She said, rising before Miles could really respond. Not that he really noticed the phone, concentrating on his game too much. Book in hand, Franziska crossed to the counter, and picked up the phone. She answered "Hello, Edgeworth residence. Franziska speaking." Angie was on the other side, responding with, "Hello, this is Angie Thompson of Hope Hospital. Is this Franziska von Karma?" Angie was almost sure of the answer, but it needed to be asked, nonetheless. "Yes, this is she." Angie sighed briefly, and began o deliver the news. "Mrs. Von Karma, it displeases me to say this, but your father is in our care right now. He is slowly dieing, and he needs you and Miles Edgeworth to come in." Franziska had dropped her book, not even caring that she hadn't bookmarked it at all. She was in a stunned silence. Angie spoke. "Mrs. Von Karma? Are you there?" Franziska cleared her throat, and answered, "Yes, I am. We'll be there as soon as possible. Thank you." Franziska ended the call, and clutched her mouth. Miles noticed something was off, and paused the game. "Who was that, Franziska?" She turned to her brother, looking pale. "That was Hope Hospital. My father is there, dieing." Miles shut off the system and stood straight up. He knew what they needed to do. "I'll get dressed. I know the way there." Franziska nodded in affirmation as Miles rushed to his room, to change. Franziska shook her head, and grabbed her garment bag.

In 5 minutes, both of them were dressed. Miles locked the apartment behind him, and the two got to Mile's car in a blur. Miles put the car in gear, and screeched out of the public parking garage, onward to Hope Hospital, neither of them knowing what was to happen.


	7. Chapter 7

There was a dead silence. The soft purr of the motor was the only sound made in Miles' car. Franziska was in the passenger seat, staring out of the clear window, watching the world pass her by. Miles concentrated on the road, towards Hope Hospital. However, if one were to listen to their minds, the noise of their thoughts was riotous. The two pseudo-siblings minds were racing faster then the car could ever reach, pondering the thousands of possibilities within the meeting of their dying father. But, they both knew hat no amount of preparation could ever prepare them for what would happen.

After driving for two hours, the car finally pulled into the parking lot of Hope Hospital. Miles put the car in park, and exited the vehicle. Franziska followed Miles to the reception counter, where Miles asked which room Manfred was staying in. The receptionist informed the two, and pointed to the elevator. They needed to reach the top floor of the building, ten stories up. Miles and Franziska entered the empty elevator. After the doors closed, Miles finally broke the long silence that felt like days.

"I am going to wait outside." He stated plainly, without looking at Franziska. He sharply turned her head, and cocked a frustrated eyebrow. "Excuse me? Wait outside?" Miles met her fiery eyes with his cold, yet sharp glare. "Yes. I refuse to be in the same room as THAT man." He uttered that as if Manfred's name was some form of expletive. Franziska turned her body towards he taller brother. "Well, THAT man is our father, and he needs…" she was cut off by Miles. "Correction; he's YOUR father. MY father was murdered by that man." Franziska became more frustrated. "Miles that was over 15 years ago. Why haven't you gotten over it?" Miles fully turned to his sister, using his height advantage to impose over her, to fully express his anger. "Why should I!?! Why should I forgive that murderous pig for killing my father in cold blood?! I'm glad he dying! Soon, I'll never have to hear from that slimy, monstrous son-of-a-

Ding.

Franziska marched out of the open elevator doors, fists clenched and to her sides. Miles rubbed the right side of his face, where his enraged sibling left a big red mark. Franziska did not have her whip on her, but she could still strike was a force just as painful. Miles staggered a bit out of the elevator, still feeling the burning that was left by Franziska's strike. He realized he should have known better then to make Franziska so upset, especially on such a touchy subject. In their collaborations about the book and her occasional visits to America, Manfred rarely came up. Franziska still loved her father like any daughter would, but Miles had too many painful memories involving him.

Miles shook it off, and he approached the room. He turned into the corridor of rooms, but was surprised to see Franziska, just standing still. He was biting his lower lip and playing with her fingernails as she just stared at the yellow door. Miles approached her. Franziska felt his unmistakable presence. Before Miles could utter a sound, Franziska raised a question.

"Do you know why I want you here, Miles?" she asked in a solid, yet shaky tone, not breaking her lock on the door. "Can't say I do." He responded. She turned to meet his eyes, which Miles could see traces of a tear in each one. "It is because I am scared. I don't know why I am scared of my own father. I don't know if I'll like who he has become. I have not seen him since my first trial. It's been years Miles. The only thing I know about him is the stories I heard in the news. That's all. There are so many questions I need answers to, but I don't know if I want the answers." The drops of tears became a small stream. "I don't care if you like my father or not. I just need you to be there for me." She turned back to the door, where she sniffled slightly as she wiped her tears off with an ungloved hand. Miles stood silent, and the pain the slap didn't burn so much. He wrapped his left arm around his sister, as he extended his right hand to the doorknob. "Even a wild mare gets scared sometimes…" he thought. The knob clicked, and lightly pushed the door open.

Manfred looked up from reading his Bible. He put the book to his side, and felt a slight relief upon seeing someone other then doctors in his room. That feeling was then swept away by the realization of seeing Franziska and Miles for the first time in years. Both feelings were hidden under Manfred's rough face, which he has learned to hide all emotion, for he felt that for the longest time that emotion beyond simple satisfaction or anger was a weakness. Franziska tried her best to resume her often tough exterior, but hints of her fear slowly crawled out through her damp eyes and fidgety right hand. Miles simply crossed his arms, and puffed up some. The two dared not to move any closer. Time felt frozen, the space became nothingness, and all senses were gone between the three. Their world had become a black nothingness with only themselves to occupy it. Franziska gathered her courage, and brought them all smashing into reality with two simple words.

"Hello Papa."

Manfred put on a small smile, and replied, "Hello, Franziska." All tension was finally torn, and Franziska dashed to her sick father. She wrapped her arms around him, avoiding the wires to fully embrace her father for what felt like the first time. Manfred embraced his baby girl, holding her dearly, with a torrent of memories invading the two. Happy childhood thoughts entered Franziska, the days of playing with him as a very young girl. Manfred remembered the days of how happy he felt with his wife was still with them, and the years of seeing Franziska grow from a little girl to a powerful young woman. Tears trickled from Franziska as she said, "It's been years, Papa." Manfred rubbed her back a little. "I know. I've missed you." Franziska released her grip, and stood up. She wiped her tears again, tears of shattered fear and unexpected joy. Manfred, despite being cold, distant, and a murderer, was still Franziska's father. She did not care about such trifling details.

"Manfred."

Those words broke the silent joy between the father and daughter, words uttered by Miles Edgeworth. He still had his arms crossed. Manfred turned to meet Miles' stare with his own. "Miles." He uttered this name flatly. It was not that the elder Von Karma did not consider Miles like his own son, but he knew Miles would still harbor dislike towards him. He knew he was just as stubborn father used to be. "I see you're finally paying for what you did to my father." Edgeworth spoke these words sharply. Franziska became a little worried and flustered as she interjected "Miles!" Manfred was unfazed and held up a finger to signify that Miles should still talk. Manfred flatly replied, "Still upset, I see." Miles put his arms down. "Upset over my fathers murder? Yes, very much so." He leaned a little forward a he raised the volume of his voice increasingly. "Why did you do it? Why did you kill my father? Was it because of your precious perfect record? Was it something he did to you? Why did you try to put me on death row?! Why did you try to get back at me?! Is it because you hate me!?! Is it because you…" Manfred tamed the practical roaring of Miles' voice by powerfully interjecting, "MILES EDGEWORTH!", like a father would to control his own son. "If I hated you as much as you think, why would I put you through high school, Harvard, graduate school, and, most importantly, raise you like my own son? Ever think of that?"

The silence returned. Miles had never been so angry, but he had to admit that Manfred was indeed correct. Miles straightened up, and calmly asked, "Why did you do it?" Manfred responded, "Kill your father? To understand that, you have to understand certain things, things that happened to me." Miles pulled two of the chairs, one for himself and Franziska. They both promptly sat, and Miles said, "We have all day. You don't." Manfred sighed, and took a deep breath. He looked right into his children's eyes. "It all began over 40 years ago, on my wedding day." He glanced at his photo, and turned back.

"It was the best and worst day of my entire life."


	8. Chapter 8

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The small audience of family and friends applauded as Manfred kissed his wife, Angelica. The wedding march blared from the small orchestra, as the newlyweds rushed down from the wedding alter, eyes glittering and smiles radiant. They felt like the happiest couple in the world in those moments. The crowd followed, throwing the celebratory rice and flowers. The two waved goodbye, as they entered the limo to go to their reception. Manfred and Angelica laughed and smiled as the limo drove off. The two finally calmed down from the excitement, and held each other's hands and store into each other's eyes in silence. They knew what the other was thinking, so no words had to be exchanged. They kissed once more. They had kissed and made love before, but in this moment, it felt even more special. They were finally husband and wife. They made an agreement that they would get married only after Manfred won his first case. As such, Manfred got his first guilty verdict no less then two weeks ago. In their years of dating, there were moments of joy, and moments of anguish, but it was all irrelevant now. They released each other's lips, and continued to gaze into their lover's eyes. Angelica whispered, "I love you." Those simple words made Manfred a flutter, even though they exchanged those words a thousand times over. He whispered back, "I love you too, Angelica."

Angelica smiled, blushed, and playfully pulled back a little. She was talking in her normal voice. "Do you know why I love you, Manfred?" He was a little confused, for that is something not normally asked on one's wedding day. But he leaned in, and replied, "Why do you love me, Angelica?" She giggled like a schoolgirl, and answered as she wrapped her arms around Manfred's strong shoulders. "Well, you are smart, handsome, strong, compassionate, and caring men I have ever met." Manfred chuckled, and pulled Angelica close to himself. "Well, do you know why I love you, Angelica?" She smiled and replied, "No, why do you love me, Manfred?" He was slightly embarrassed, and answered, "Well, in truth, you remind me of my sister." She planted her face into Manfred's shoulder, laughing at such an odd answer. Now extremely embarrassed, the newlywed man continued. "It's not what you think." He pulled Angelica's face near his, and looked into her eyes again. "She was my best friend when I was a kid. She was kind, patient, compassionate, and smart. You remind me of her sometimes, and that makes me happy." He was saying this in an almost desperate tone, as to not scare off his wife. But, Angelica leaned in, and kissed him. She pulled back, and replied, "Well, that is very sweet of you. Maybe I should meet this girl. If she's that special to you, that only means I will be that special to you, as your wife." They stared in silence once more. The limo stopped, and Manfred realized that they needed to get out to the reception, even though he could spend all of time in that one spot. He opened the door, and led Angelica in, arms locked around the others.

The reception was in full swing shortly after the newlywed's arrival. There was singing, dancing, toasts and speeches, even a humorous dance routine made by Manfred's best men. The party went on until the evening, and had no signs of stopping soon. Manfred and Angelica spend most of their time together. But, around sunset, Victoria found the couple. She had an expensive camera around her neck, and wanted to take their picture. After the single photo that was taken, the one that Manfred would cherish forever, he introduced Angelica to Victoria. Immediately, they were like sisters. They talked a lot, which pleased Manfred. It was good to know his sister could get along with his wife, and her sister-in-law.

After their conversation, Victoria approached Manfred. Angelica understood that she wanted to talk to her brother in private, so with a peck on Manfred's lips, she went and joined in the party. Victoria said to Manfred, "Wanna take a walk? The noise is giving me a headache." Manfred agreed. It had been while since they talked to each other, so it was a perfect time to catch up. They decided to walk in the sidewalk around the building the reception was held.

"So, you're a lawyer now?" Manfred responded with some pride. "Yup. A Prosecutor. Won my first case two weeks ago." Victoria responded in a congratulatory tone. "Wow! Very impressive. That's not an easy feat, or so I hear." Manfred answered, "Well, it helped that I did a lot of mock trial in school. I think I have a good technique down." Manfred decided to switch the subject. "How is photography treating you?" Victoria answered, "Well, it's not a great paying job, but I have fun with it. You're lucky I decided to take pictures for free today. I don't do that for everybody, you know." Manfred laughed and said, "Thanks again, Victoria." She smiled and playfully responded, "Oh, it was nothing. Anything for my brother." They kept walking and talking for some time.

But, Victoria noticed an odd reflection in her glasses.

"Manfred." Victoria said flatly, interrupting him. "I think someone is following us." He looked behind him, and saw a dark figure, keeping his distance. When he looked, the man's walk started to get faster. Even with the bright streetlamps, nothing could be made out from the figure. Manfred whispered, "Run." The two started picking up their pace, only to have the figure behind them get faster. The two entered a full sprint, as to get anywhere but where they were. Suddenly, two figures emerged from an alleyway, nabbing the two and covering their mouths. The two figures were incredibly strong, and the two couldn't make a sound. Knives were pointed at their neck as they were pulled into the dark alleyway. Manfred was tied to a water pipe, unable to move. As Victoria was pinned to the ground, the men wrapped tight cloths around their mouths. Then, the figure that was following the two steeped into full light, and Manfred's eyes widened as he realized who the man was.

"Hello, Mr. Prosecutor." The man said in a slimy tone. Manfred did not know the man's name, but the mark on his face was undeniable. He was part of a gang of thugs, whose boss Manfred found guilty of robbery and murder two weeks ago. He thought the gang would disband, but one of the underlings must have taken over. Manfred wanted to say something, but the gag was too much. He man held his own knife up. "Listen well, Mr. Prosecutor. This is what happens when you mess with us. Consider this a warning. I'm not going to kill you. But what will happen is much, much worse then death. That girl? I'm going to have some 'fun' with her." Victoria and Manfred's eyes widened much more, and Victoria shook in fear. The man walked over to the pinned down girl, and made one slash on the shirt.

Manfred looked away from Miles and Franziska, and shook in terror, like they had never seen him do. Miles could already guess what was to happen, but the question had to be asked. "What happened to you sister?" Manfred regained his composure, and looked into his children's eyes. "Those thugs… they forced me to watch. My sister was raped and killed right in front of my eyes." Franziska gasped and covered her mouth in horror. She had heard a multitude of stories from her clients about rape and murder, but hearing it from her father, about her own aunt no less, was terrifying. Manfred continued the story again.

"After he finished, he cut me from the ropes holding me back."

It began to rain. The thugs left, laughing. Victoria lay beaten and torn. Her breath became heavier by the second. Tears formed in Manfred's eyes, as he approached his sister weakly. With her last breath, she smiled, and said, "Don't worry about me. You… you just need to… take care of your wife…" she looked into his eyes. "Remember Manfred… stay strong… for me." With those words, she allowed the cold blanket of death cover her. Manfred released a torrent of tears, as he closed Victoria's eyes. He bent over, allowing the rain to beat him like stones. He straightened up, and screamed to the heavens, 'VICTORIA!!!" and bent back over her, crying harder then ever before.


	9. Chapter 9

Miles and Franziska just sat motionless in their seats. Manfred's words rang loudly within the silent hospital room. The story chilled their spines, not only because of the gruesome fate of Victoria, but the two could only imagine how the nightmare plagued Manfred for so many years. Miles, once again knowing what had to be said, asked in a shaky tone, "What happened next, Manfred?" The elder Von Karma sighed heavily, recalling the painful memory. "The next day, he was arrested. After reporting his description to the police, they caught the thug that murdered my sister. I identified him in a line up. After that, a trail was set." Franziska made an interruption out of nerves and terror. "Did something happen at the trial, Papa?" Manfred turned to his daughter, and responded gravely, "Oh Yes. Something happened at that trial."

"The trial went on for only one day."

Manfred was in the prosecution's waiting room. It was a few minutes before the trial, and Manfred was extremely nervous. Angelica was not allowed in the room, something Manfred wasn't too keen about, but he knew how procedure should be. In the room, a tall, plainly dressed man paced back and forth, reading the case file one more time. His name was Jerry McCoy, the prosecuting attorney in this case. He was an honest man, simply trying to make a living serving the lay. Although he was short in stature and nearly 50 years old, he had an impressive record and a sharp mind. He looked up from his file and looked at his client. In a reassuring tone, he stated, "Don't worry. Everything will be fine." Manfred looked towards the grayed attorney, and questioned, "How do you know?" McCoy thought for a moment, and turned to Manfred. "I don't. But if I worried, it would only make things worse, right?" He sat down next to his nervous client. "Listen, you're not the only witness. There were some pedestrians who saw the men, doing exactly what you said they were doing. There is evidence of your kidnapping, and other details." Jerry smiled some.

"Everything is perfect."

Manfred took security in that word. Perfect. As long as he told the truth, everything would work out perfectly. Manfred was less nervous, and finally smiled. McCoy got up, and opened the door. It was time.

The judge banged his gavel to quiet the crowd. With a powerful voice, he announced, "This court will now come to order for the trail of State vs. Malloy. Is the defense prepared, Mr. Damon?" The defense attorney was Larry Damon, notorious for many reasons. A genius of the courtroom, he could convince a jury that night was day and the sky was green. "The defense is prepared, your honor." He said in a low, but confident tone." The judge acknowledged, and asked, "Is the prosecution prepared, Mr. McCoy?" Jerry nodded and responded, "Yes, your honor." The judge, always happy to see things are moving swimmingly, followed up. "Alright, then. The prosecution will give their opening statement to this court." McCoy straightened up, and projected for the whole courtroom to hear. Years of being an actor helped in this. "Ladies and gentlemen of the court, the prosecution will prove today that, beyond all reasonable doubt, that Mr. Malloy is guilty of the heinous crimes against my client's sister, Victoria Von Karma." McCoy nodded to the judge with his right hand underneath his chin, a simple, yet signature move of his. "Clear and to the point, as always, Mr. McCoy." The judge banged his gavel. "The prosecution will call their first witness."

The deliberations took hours. Three witnesses came up, telling the same tale of a man that looked like the defendant laughing his way out of an alley, bragging about what he did to Victoria. Finally, Manfred took the stand, and delivered his terrible story. Everyone in that courtroom wanted Malloy to be found guilty. But, during the whole trial, Damon rarely said a word. He simply verified details. McCoy was cocky, and thought that the trial was his. Manfred, however, had a bad feeling about Damon's actions. It was almost if it was… intentional. It was almost as if he was waiting to do something. Finally, after Manfred stepped down, the judge was wide eyed. "Well now… I believe everything is clear to us. The testimonies are solid, and it appears that there is no room for doubt." Manfred was somewhat relieved. It would be all over now. The judge raised his gavel. "The court finds Mr. Malloy…"

"OBJECTION!"

The whole courtroom turned to the defense's stand, to see Mr. Damon extending his right arm towards the judge. "Wait one moment, your honor." Mr. Damon said in a maleficent tone. Manfred thought, "Oh no." Larry stood, hands on hips, extremely pleased with himself, and announced, "I think Mr. Malloy has something to say." The judge sat wide-eyed and answered, "Well… I don't see why we can't." Jerry, desperate, shouted, "Objection!" Sweating bullets, he stood his ground. "Mr. Damon was supposed to speak for Mr. Malloy!" "Objection!" Larry responded, in which he almost chuckled, highly amused with himself. "There are some things only the defendant can attest to." The judge nodded in agreement. "I see. The court will allow a statement from Mr. Malloy." McCoy grinded his teeth a bit beneath his lips. He did not see this move coming.

Mr. Malloy took the stand. His head was slinking, acting like a depressed dog. Damon started questioning. "Mr. Malloy. In these proceedings, you have been accused of rape and murder. Are these charges accurate?" Malloy looked up towards the judge, and plainly said, "No. I go to that alleyway dump off my garbage. I didn't even see Mr. Von Karma or the victim." Damon looked across to McCoy. "The defense would like to ask the prosecution about Mr. Malloy's motive." Jerry was a little taken back, but answered powerfully, "The motive for Mr. Malloy is that he is clearly a part of the gang that my client, Mr. Von Karma, had put their leader to a life sentence, and killed the victim as revenge." Larry smirked. "Correction. WAS part of a gang. There is no evidence that currently links Mr. Malloy to the gang today." The courtroom murmured, which the judge banged his gavel for order. Not waiting for the noise to die down, Jerry shouted, "Objection! The timeframe of the crime and the markings on Mr. Malloy's face are too coincidental!" Damon snapped back. "Objection! That's all it is! A coincidence!" The crowd got louder. The judge shouted powerfully, without the aid of his gavel "Order in my courtroom!" The crowd became dead silent. The judged closed his eyes in concentration. He opened them, and began to address the court. "The defense has a point, Mr. McCoy. All this time, there have been only coincidental circumstances. You have yet to present hard evidence." Jerry answered, "But, your honor! My client saw the defendant face-to-face!" Before the judge could respond, Larry chimed in. "The crime happened in a dark alleyway. With no clear lights, there is no way he could positively identify my client." McCoy shot back, "The moonlight was enough to get a clear look at the defendant!" to which Larry countered, "With the autopsy report messed up by the heavy rain that evening, there was no accurate time of death, THEREFORE, it could have been raining heavily at the time of the crime, thus obscuring Mr. Von Karma's view!" Jerry retaliated hard. If he gave up on his attack, the case was over. "Are you implying that Mr. Von Karma's testimony was inaccurate?" Larry, instead of shooting back, smiled ear to ear, and leaned back where he stood. Mr. McCoy fell right into his perfectly laid trap.

"He is clearly lying, and for a good reason too." The crowd erupted in noise, but Manfred sat in silence, watching the "perfect" prosecution being per verbally shot down before them. Larry continued after the judge quite the court with his ringing gavel. "In the gang rings, my client was to be in command after their leader was nixed. But, shortly before Mr. Von Karma put the leader away, he left the gang to get a better life. Mr. Von Karma, fearing that the gang would retaliate, decided to use his sister's murder as a vehicle to carry out final vengeance against the gang itself." He looked at Manfred at the prosecution's table, and said with a poison in his breath, "A noble cause, but to use your sister's death? You should be ashamed." Manfred stood in anger. "You monster! How dare you accuse me…" but before he could finish, the judge interrupted, "Mr. Von Karma! You will settle down, or I will hold you contempt of court! Do I make my self absolutely clear?!" Manfred sank back down, broken, defeated. "Crystal, your honor." The judge turned back to McCoy. "Now, can the prosecution refute this claim, or is there a distinct possibility that Mr. Malloy was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?" McCoy, feeling the weight of his defeat, whimpered, "Yes, it is a possibility." The crowd murmured once more. The judge banged his gavel.

"I will now express my thoughts on the matter at hand. The defense has adequately told the court the distinct possibility that the defendant, Mr. Malloy, did not commit the crime. The prosecution failed to present solid evidence, and there is the possibility of flawed testimony. Considering the circumstances, I do not see any reason for this trial to go on." Manfred wanted to scream something, anything. Something to pin the blame on Mr. Malloy. But, it was the truth. There was no more evidence, no more testimony. There was nothing that could be done. Under his breath, he whispered, "Victoria… I'm so sorry…" he judge announced, "The court finds Mr. Malloy NOT GUILTY." The judge raised his gavel high, and said, 'Court is adjourned."

"The ringing of the gavel striking the judge's table was deafening to me. That sound would begin my decent into madness. In that moment, 'Perfect' was no longer a word. It became the virus that infected my very being."


	10. Chapter 10

The room was silent once more. The Von Karma family absorbed what was just said, trying to understand everything. Miles was the first to speak up. "Infected your very being?" Manfred regained his focus, ready to explain what he said. "Yes Miles." Manfred sat back more in the gurney. "That case was everything to me. McCoy's idea of perfection was flawed, but that Mr. Damon… the way he controlled the judge…" Manfred sported a slightly devilish smirk. "That kind of power was appealing." Manfred started to practically glow. "To think, that kind of control of the court... I would be the greatest prosecutor there ever was. By being so forceful…"

"You monster." Though it was only a whisper, it was heard loud and clear.

Franziska spoke up. "You are a monster, papa! Why would you idolize the man that… that…" Franziska stood up in anger and frustration. In pure fury, Franziska shouted, "You… you… coward!" Franziska was so full of fury, could find no more words. Streams appeared under her eyes as she stormed out of the hospital room. Miles stood, but before Miles could say anything, Manfred spoke in his normal, rough tone. "Let her go. She has every right to be angry." Miles, although concerned for Franziska, was did not particularly care about what she said. He turned to Manfred, and said, "I still don't understand. That trial, your obsession, what does that have to do with my father?" Manfred responded, "You will understand in due time, Miles." He settled into the gurney and closed his eyes. "For now, I need to rest." Miles, although still wanting an answer, respected his surrogate father's wishes, and promptly left the room. Mile, after closing the door, checked his watch. Four in the afternoon. What felt like minutes were indeed hours and Miles knew that the day had only really begun. He paced down the hallway as to find his upset sister.

Derek Stiles sat at his desk in silence, just staring at the charts, x-rays, and medical documents me looked up on the internet. Every time he looked, things didn't seem as right as it was before. The organ failures, the coma, the seizures, every time Derek thought about these conditions, things never added up. Derek was caught in a maelstrom of confusion, racking his brain for an answer, ANY answer. This storm could have swallowed him had Angie not entered the room, the creak of the door diverting Derek's attention. Derek, not waiting for anything, quickly said, "Yes, Nurse Thompson?" Angie entered the room and started to speak. "Well, Dr. Stiles, I know I am technically on my break now, but is there anything I can do to help you?" here was a brief silence, and Derek answered "Well, could you check on Mr. Von Karma and his children? It would help a lot." Angie nodded in confirmation, and left the room. Stiles sighed heavily, and leaned into his chair. Removing his glasses, he messaged his temples, clearing his headache some. Then, Derek thought of the one person that could help him with this problem. Derek replaced his glasses and picked up his cell phone from his desk, not wanting to risk the life of the woman he must call.

In a far off European hospital, a tall, purple haired woman sat at her desk, twirling her long, stylish hair betwixt her right fingers, pen placed perfectly in her left hand writing notes on her charts when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Placing the pen down, she removed it from her pocket with a slender hand, glancing at the caller identification on the front of the small device. Derek Stiles, friend and colleague in the GUILT breakouts nary two years prior. She clicked the green button and elegantly held the device to her left ear. With a soothing voice and a pleased smile, she answered, "It's been a long time, Derek." Derek rested his cell under on his shoulder and responded, "Hello, Dr. Kimishima." Nozomi Kimishima, otherwise known as Dr. Weaver to the rest of the world, leaned back in her chair and got right to the point. "Is there something wrong, Derek?" Derek answered, "Yeah. I have a problem with a patient. I am sending you some things to look at" Derek clicked on his computer and emailed a series of images and texts to Nozomi. He briefly explained the scenario as Nozomi looked through the sent items. Derek finished, and asked, "Second opinion, Doctor?" Kimishima was silent, and said the one possibility she could think of. Derek knew of this possibility from the beginning, but after the whole ordeal two years ago, he did not want to think of such an answer.

"Derek, this might be a new strain of GUILT."

There was dead silence on the line. "Dammit" Derek cursed under his breath. Derek immediately responded, "I thought that was done with. I thought we beat it." Dr. Kimishima switched to a solid tone, saying "You cannot discount the possibility of rogue agents, Derek. After Delphi was disbanded, there was no guarantee that some cells may still be around. Terrorists rarely give up, even after their leaders are is killed." Derek rubbed his temples again, and said back, "Is there another possibility of outbreak? Could we have another crisis?" Nozomi sighed and answered calmly, "Do not think worst case scenario just yet Derek. Do what you can, and keep him alive. This may all be one big misdiagnosis." Derek closed his eyes and calmed himself. Stiles muttered, "Thank you, Nozomi." She smiled again. "Take care of yourself, Derek" and ended the transmission.

Angie, Miles, and Franziska sat at a small table in the hospital's cafeteria. Angie had to convince the two to finally come with her to eat. She had to remind the two that it had been hours since the two pseudo-siblings had not eaten. The three were in silence as they ate their respective meals, Franziska barely eating anything at all. Franziska was still very upset at her father and herself for her outburst. After some time, she decided that she would speak to Miles, but she didn't want Angie to hear. Franziska, like her father, never cared for doctors or nurses, especially blonde ones that told her what to do. Deciding to speak in German, she focused on Miles. "Miles, can we talk? Speak in German, so that this blonde girl doesn't understand us." Before Miles could respond, Angie interjected in a cool tone, "I heard that." in a perfect German accent. Franziska grunted in anger, and decided to just let out what she was feeling.

"I can't believe my father. He admired the man that protected the man who killed his sister. And then, he passed those teachings down to us. His own children, born to be prosecutors, we were just following the techniques of some slimy defense attorney." Franziska put her fingers to her forehead, looking away from the two, trying her best not to cry in front of them. "But, I don't think that's reason I am so upset. All I wanted was truth. I just wanted the truth and he gives me a story of why he is so corrupt." Miles sat back in his chair and put on a face of disgust. He said, "He explained nothing to me. His story doesn't tell a damn thing about why he killed my father. Trust me Franziska, you are not the only one who didn't get any answers. Only reasons to hate that despicable man even more." Angie, sensing the tension, decided to throw in her two cents. She may not have known all the details, but she thought her words could still help. "Maybe what he said was truth, but in a way you didn't want." The two stopped, and looked right at the blonde nurse in silence. She continued. "One thing our jobs have in common is the truth. I have had to deliver ugly news to patients and families. Doesn't your job involve finding the truth?" Angie paused, and spoke again. "Look, it seems to me that your father had to tell you an ugly truth about himself, in order to help you find the answers you need." There was a silence at the table, as the two let Angie's words sink in. Maybe this girl was right. But, there was little time to think about it. Angie felt her pager buzz, and looked at the screen in shock. She looked up, and delivered some ugly news.

"Your father is in emergency surgery. He's dieing faster then we thought." The three rose, and Miles and Franziska followed as Angie started her dash to the operating room.


	11. Chapter 11

Angie rushed into the prep room to find Derek scrubbing his hands furiously. Before Angie could say a word, Derek turned and asked, "Where are Franziska and Miles?" Angie closed the door behind her and said, "They're in the observation booth." As Angie scrubbed her hands and prepared the operation tray, she asked calmly, "What is going on, Doctor?" Derek wiped his hands dry, and held them up. "I am not sure." Derek snapped the latex gloves onto his hands, to insure sterility. Derek continued. "I went to check on his condition, and he was out cold. After lifting the blankets, I saw that a pool of silver liquid was on the bed. It must have come from the rectum. His vital signs were dropping quickly, so we have to go in there and figure out what the heck is going on." Angie finished applying her gloves. She was extremely confused at the notion of a pool of silver, but decided to move onto a different question. "What are you planning, Doctor?" Angie queried as the two started for the operation room. Derek responded, "Well, I didn't have time for an MRI, so I am going to try the stomach, and go from there." If this was Derek's first surgery, Angie would have objected to the notion of Derek cutting into a body blind, but she knew Derek had the skills. She could trust him. Derek donned his surgical gear, and turned to Angie. "Let's begin the operation."

On a cold surgical table, Manfred laid unconscious, breathing heavy gas to keep him knocked out, unknowing of what was to be done to his body. Miles and Franziska watched from the booth in silence, praying that Manfred could make it through. There were still many unanswered questions that only Manfred could answer. Derek knew only a life was on the line. But Miles and Franziska, even Angie, knew so much more was at stake. Derek wiped Manfred's midsection with the antibiotic, and without breaking concentration on the body, Derek held his left hand up towards Angie. She had worked as a operation assistant long enough to know exactly what Derek needed. She placed the sterile scalpel gently into his hand, and Derek slowly cut the body across where the lightly colored antibiotic had left a streak for Derek to follow. After the cut, he carefully placed the clamps to hold the skin open. Before Derek was the stomach, although it was no bigger then his two fists side by side, it was as big as a continent for Derek, for Manfred's body had become Derek's world in that operation room. At first, there seemed to be no problem. The stomach seemed healthy enough. But Manfred's vital signs were still low. Puzzled, Derek decided to make a slight incision into the stomach. Right then, a small puddle of silver liquid oozed from the stomach. It was an odd sight, but Derek had seen weirder, and much worse. Derek, focus still on the stomach, said, "Angie, get me the stomach pump. If we can rid of the liquid now, while he's open, then we should have to time to…" but Angie's sudden gasp and shocked eyes interpreted Derek's planning. The puddle of silver disappeared, as it seemed to go back into the stomach. Derek was equally shocked when his incision sealed itself.

This was a new GUILT strain. No doubt about it.

Derek's worst fears were true after all. Derek shouted, "Angie, the pump! Now!" Angie dashed from the table to retrieve the small device. Derek focused back onto the stomach, which was beginning to inflate at an alarming rate. This GUILT had a mind of its own, and it was set to blow Manfred's stomach like an overly inflated balloon. Derek wasn't going to risk bursting the stomach by slicing it open again, so he quickly grabbed his syringe, to try and get any of the viscous fluid out. Derek got the needle in, but before Derek could pull the plunger back, the liquid pushed the needle back and out of the stomach. Angie got the machine set up, ready to move the tube into the stomach. Derek instructed, "Cut the blinds to the observation window!" Angie knew the only thing that could mean. "Yes Doctor." She replied, and triggered the switch to block the observation window. Miles and Franziska were taken back, confused as to why they couldn't watch their father's operation. But ultimately, they did nothing, for the door to the room was locked, and there were no controls to open the window. A tear trickled down Franziska's eye, praying that everything was alright.

Derek had very little time. He knew using his ability was dangerous, and if anyone knew, the ramifications would be great. But Derek had no choice. By closing his eyes, he imagined the star. He had learned how to pull off the technique without drawing in the air, but his glowing right index and middle fingers and the fact he was the only thing moving indicated full well that he triggered the Healing Touch. He quickly got to work, moving the elongated tube through Manfred's nose, and down into the stomach. The near living silver fluid wouldn't stand a chance against Derek's speed. He deactivated the Touch, and started the machine. Immediately, the stomach deflated to a normal size as silver liquid poured into the pump's reservoir. Derek sighed in slight relief that Manfred's vitals started to stabilize. He closed Manfred up, but Derek had the feeling that this GUILT hasn't been defeated. Angie monitored the pump as she wheeled him back to his room. Derek opened the curtain, and clicked the intercom. "Your father's stable, you can see him soon. Sorry we had to close the curtain on you guys." he said with a serious tone. Franziska had long held her composure. Equally stern, she responded, "Well, thank you. Keeping him stable is all we can really ask for." After some silent nods and thanks, they parted.

Derek scrubbed his hands harder then ever. Wild thoughts were running through his head, frustrated thoughts of what felt like hopelessness. With everything going on in Manfred's body, he knew everything was futile. Organs dead, GUILT, and Manfred's ever worsening condition; everything was adding up to show that he had very little time left. Derek exited the washroom and saw out the window. The sun was setting. Derek looked at the sparkling sun set, and felt his stomach sink as he thought, "He'll never see the sun rise."


End file.
